One Long Stellar Cycle
by PinkCookie11
Summary: "What's a stellar cycle?" "It's what you humans call one year." "A YEAR!" Inspired by the movie "Nine Months". Prowl is sparked, but is he ready for a sparkling? Who's the other Parent? And what do you get when you take an outwardly emotionless tactician; and add pregnancy hormones?
1. Chapter 1

Title: One Long Stellar Cycle.

Author: PinkCookie11.

Summary: "What's a stellar cycle?" "It's what you humans call one year." "A YEAR!" Inspired by the movie "Nine Months". Prowl is sparked, but is he ready for a sparkling? Who's the other Parent? And what do you get when you take an outwardly emotionless tactician; and add pregnancy hormones? Budding relationships, insecurity, morning sickness, scary cravings, mood swings, crack, fluff, lots of tears, one vulnerable SIC, many supportive friends; and a sparkling!

Author's note: I'll never be tired of writing that. *gazes dreamily off into the middle-distance*

… … …

Author's note, the second attempt: O-oh, better not start that again! Soooo, This fic was inspired by a combination of the movie "Nine Months" and my deep love for Prowl. Inspiration for the plot kind of just struck this morning, but the fandom was a challenge; and I never say no to a challenge! … unless it's something stupid … like trying to fly off the Golden Gate Bridge. Now that, would be stupid! So it's robot babies and mush ahead!

… … …

Author's note three: Takes place in the Mikal Bay movie-verse after ROTF, but before DOTM. This fic is AU from the end of the second movie … kind of. The events of the first two movies still occurred; with the exception that Sam gained the power and knowledge of the allspark; and was able to resurrect Jazz. The only thing Sam cannot do is create new sparklings. Oh and just a heads up, the Cybertronians' holo-forms can eat some human foods. Why? Because I'm the author and I say so!

… … …

Author's note … again: Just so ya know, I'm not really familiar with the Transformers outside of the Bay-verse and a handful of other fics that I've read, so soz if the characters are a little OOC. Also, I don't really feel comfortable writing anything too graphic, so most of my stuff will be implied only.

Warning: Slash! … eventually! Mpreg! Kissing! … Maybe! Fluff! Affection! Babies! … or rather a sparkling. Vague descriptions of childbirth! Implied … stuff! And most importantly. Taking the micky out of random characters purely for the entertainment of the author and her readers! Oh. Also, the author tends to be just a little … dramatic, when it comes to author's notes, warnings … and pretty much everything else.

Parings: … yeah right! Like I'm gonna tell ya that! There'd be no point in reading the story … except for the sparkling; and the pregnancy hormones; and the new relationships; and the blossoming friendships … and how the characters react … and the general plot … and the qua- … ya get the picture. I hope.

Disclaimer: I really hate disclaimers, so I'm only going to write this once. I do not own the Transformers, either Autobots or Decepticons. I do not own any of the humans. I do not own the Allspark. I do not own Earth, or Cybertron, or NEST, or many of the major plot points, or anything/anyone really, that is mentioned in this fic. Wow. I suddenly have this amazingly overwhelming feeling of complete insignificants and worthlessness. This is why I hate disclaimers!

Thoughts: […]

Com-link: /…/

Bond speech: :…:

Flashbacks: {…}

Nicknames/placing emphasis on particular words: '…'

Prologue: Sparkling!

Prowl vented a sigh and ran a tired hand over his faceplates. He had one pit of a processor ache that would neither ease up, nor let him concentrate on his work. He'd onlined with it that morning; and it had steadily grown worse throughout the day.

Setting aside the data-pad with Hound's mission report that he'd been trying to read for the last hour, The SIC leaned his arms on the desk; and rested his throbbing helm on top of them, venting another sigh. It had been one very long day; and it wasn't even half way through yet.

The door pinged and Prowl buzzed whoever was on the other side in without looking up.

"Heyer, Prowler!"

Prowl winced at Jazz's cheerful and bouncy tone.

"'Prowl. It's Prowl Jazz." He corrected wearily, with the unmistakable air of someone who'd been over this very same conversation many times in the past; and fully expected to continue going over it many more times in the future.

"… something wrong, 'Prowler'?" Jazz asked, placing special emphasis on the nickname.

He peered closely at his friend, noting the slight drupe of Prowl's door-wings, his rather dim optics and overall exhausted appearance.

"No. There is nothing wrong."

The tactician straitened and attempted his usual stoic appearance.

"Was there something you needed, Jazz?"

Jazz gave him a thoughtful frown before answering.

"Well, Sides is waten 'n th Brig fer ya to give 'm a punishment; and dear ol Galloway's come t see a man 'bout a dog."

Prowl shot him a bemused look.

"… What?"

"It's just a human sayen, Prowler."

"Oh … well … I will go see to Sideswipe first, then speak with Mr. Galloway." Prowl said, tiredly standing up as he suppressed yet another sigh. This day was just getting better and better.

Jazz, who had begun fiddling with the pieces of Prowl's chess set, glanced up sharply at the tone in the Praxian's voice.

"Ya sure 'bout that, Prowler?" He asked, concerned for his fellow officer. "'cause ah'm sure tha Prime 'll be happy ta see what that pain in th aft wants; and ah can deal with th red hellion fur ya."

Prowl shook his helm, regretting it a half second later, as the movement sent stabbing pains through his processor. Resisting the urge to flinch, he slowly made his way to the door; and cast the TIC a disbelieving look.

"Jazz, you know as well as I do, that it is not a good idea for Optimus and Mr. Galloway to be in the same room as each other."

Jazz hummed in agreement. Everyone on base, both autobot and human alike, were still talking about the last time that very thing had occurred. The Prime was always polite to the extremely irritating little man, in a completely terrifying 'you don't know who you're dealing with' kind of way, but the same could not be said for Galloway. As there was not a person or mech on base that either liked Galloway, or disliked Optimus, many of them, particularly Prowl, made it a point to confront the annoying human before he could get to the autobot leader.

"Yer very protective of 'm." Jazz noted as he followed the SIC from his office.

Prowl turned to head in the direction of the brig.

"Someone has to be." He flung back over his shoulder.

The saboteur stood and watched the subtle drop in Prowl's door-wings; and the way he seemed to plod rather than walk down the hallway.

[But who's protective of you?] Jazz wondered silently, returning to his own office.

"You're such a glitch, Sides. You know that?"

Sunstreaker, arms folded across his chest, trademark scowl occupying its favourite spot on his faceplates, leaned against the wall opposite his brother's sell.

The red Lamborghini thru his yellow twin a lopsided grin.

"If I haven't figured that out by now, with you oh so kindly pointing it out on a daily bases brother mine … then chances are I never will." Was the mock sorrowful reply. "Alas, Sunny … There's just no hope for me!"

The golden mech gave a disgusted snort and role of his optics.

"… Glitch."

"I try."

Sideswipe made a valiant attempt at modesty … and completely failed.

Glancing up at a soft noise, the yellow Lambo's optics narrowed at the sight of Prowl approaching.

"Now you're in for it." He muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "If it isn't the 'SEAID' himself." He added with a half smirk at his twin's expense.

"I'm overwhelmed by your show of support." His brother quipped good-naturedly.

"Sunstreaker, if you please." The tactician gestured towards the exit.

Giving his brother one last glare, Sunstreaker turned and brushed wordlessly by the smaller black and white mech.

"What up, Cop-bot?" Sideswipe began cheerfully. "Here to keep me company?"

"Hardly." Prowl replied dryly. "I am sure that you already know why I am here."

The red front-liner simply tossed the SIC a bright smile. Inwardly however, he contemplated the name Sunny had used.

[Wonder if he really is a SEAID?]

SEAID was actually an acronym that Tracks had pinned the Praxian with, late one night at a party a few weeks ago. Prowl had somehow come up in their conversation; and Tracks, overcharged on high-grade, had referred to the officer as a sparkless, emotionless, artificial intelligence drone; and the nickname had stuck.

Privately, the twins had thought this a little harsh, so they only ever made use of the name occasionally in a joking manner, but now, staring into the blank mask that was his superior's face, Sideswipe couldn't help but think that there might be some truth to the statement: at least as far as the emotionless part. Certainly, if Prowl ever experienced emotions, he never showed them.

"… Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Sideswipe?" Prowl prompted after several moments of silence had elapsed.

The red mech feigned a look of wide-opticd innocence.

"Me … sir? Why, I'm flattered. Don't quite know what to say, though. Not much has really happened of late. Nothing worth mentioning, anyway."

The red annoyance, also known as Sunstreaker's twin brother, pretended to mull over this for a while; and Prowl distractedly wondered how much trouble he'd be facing if he gave into temptation and locked up the brig, leaving Sideswipe incarcerated permanently.

[Shouldn't be too much. Optimus would understand … surely.]

Sideswipe snapped his fingers and his optics brightened as if he'd suddenly remembered something.

"That's right! There was that thing today, you'll love it, sir. Very funny. It's right up your alley."

Prowl stifled an exasperated grown.

[Primus help me! What did I ever do to deserve this?]

Well …" the front-liner began, settling back in a slouched position on the uncomfortable mettle berth, arms tucked behind his helm, as if he was preparing to tell a long and exciting story. "… you see, Tracks was walking across the rec room spitting out this whole bunch of slag about a certain mech I know … and he tripped and fell on my fist."

Prowl raised an optic ridge.

"Seven times?"

The irrepressible red twin gave an amused chuckle.

"What can I say, sir? He's a clumsy mech."

The tactician refrained from banging his helm against the wall, just in case it made his processor ache worse … if that was even possible: opting instead to give the delinquent Lamborghini a cool stare.

"… I see." He said at last.

"It was for a good cause." Sideswipe insisted.

"Even so …" the SIC said in a neutral tone, "… that is still no excuse to brawl with a fellow autobot. I am placing you on double shifts for a week; and in your spare time you are to help Ratchet in the med-bay."

"The med-bay!" The front-liner protested in hora. "… But 'Hatchet' 'll dong me over the helm with a wrench every half-hour!"

"Perhaps it will encourage you to keep your hands to yourself in future." Prowl remarked calmly, hitting the Butten to release a considerably less than happy Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker was waiting for his brother at the exit. Sideswipe angrily breezed past him; and continued along the hall, avoiding the human soldiers hurrying this way and that, doing … whatever it was humans did. Prowl however, paused.

A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him and he braced one hand against the wall as his optics unfocussed; and the room tilted in what should've been impossible angles. He caught a flash of yellow in the corner of his optic, then everything whited out; and he was falling.

Systems rebooting with a low fuel warning appearing on his HUD a few spark-pulses later, Prowl briefly marvelled over the fact that he was not huddled in an undignified heap on the flaw. On-lining his optics, the tactician stared blearily at the yellow form in front of him, swimming in and out of focus.

"…Sunstreaker?"

He hadn't even realised the golden mech was still there. Sideswipe had already sulked off in the direction of the med-bay; and Prowl had assumed Sunstreaker had followed him, but here he was, regarding his commander with an unreadable expression.

[No scowl? That's new.] The black and white Datsun thought, rather irrelevantly.

Prowl slowly became aware that he must have fallen against the yellow Lamborghini … who now had one arm around his waist; and had his free hand on the SIC's shoulder, supporting him.

"You alright, sir?"

Prowl straitened in Sunstreaker's grip.

"It is nothing that a cube of energon will not cure." He stated evenly.

The golden front-liner's look deepened into its's accustomed annoyed scowl.

[No surprise there.]

"That's a lode of slag and you know it, Prowl! You don't just faint because you've gone a couple of hours without fuel."

The yellow Lambo began tugging Prowl towards the med-bay.

"You should go see Ratchet."

The Praxian stiffened and pulled away from Sunstreaker.

"Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary, as I am perfectly fine."

Sunstreaker glared at him a moment, then spun on his heel and stalked away.

Prowl wilted a little. Despite what everybody seemed to believe, the Datsun was not emotionless, nor did he enjoy being unpopular. The crew simply did not understand him; and he didn't know how to interact with them either.

Prowl drifted like a zombie back towards his office, another stack of data-pads tucked under one arm; and Major William Lennox balanced carefully in his free hand. If anyone had asked him how the meeting with Galloway had gone, he wouldn't have been able to answer. All he knew was that he felt strangely like crying.

"One of these days, I'm gonna hurt him." Will muttered darkly, glowering in the general direction of the 'peace room'.

So named, ironically, because it was reserved solely for debates with the arrogant and egotistical Government official.

Or, to quote Fig,

"A walking target range with a mouth too big for his own good; and ideas so random and prejudice towards the autobots, that they leave even Red Alert mystified as to where they originate."

Epps had been the one to dub the aforementioned room, because as he never failed to remind the entire base,

"It's a great place to go and have an easy chat with our much beloved and mutual friend, the good and honourable Galloway."

{"But, why do you call it the 'peace room'?" Blaster had queried in puzzlement.

"Let's face it." Sam began. "We all want to shoot him, but you guise can't, because he's human. And we, can't either … unfortunately, because we're human."

"So …" Will continued. "… we tend to leave our weapons outside that room, to eliminate temptation. We're soldiers, so you won't find us going many places without a gun, but it's probably not a good idea to carry firearms anywhere near someone like Galloway."

Sam grinned at the dawning look of comprehension and amusement on the autobots' faces.

"Plus, we humans are hopelessly fond of comically sarcastic nicknames. Like we call Meggertron 'Tiny', or Galloway 'Happy'."

"Don't dwell on it too much. Fig advised sympathetically, catching sight of Prowl. "We're not the most logical creatures."}

Just then, Prowl's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his com-link.

/Prowl!/

/Ratchet? Is something wrong?/

/You need to get down to med-bay, right now!/

Prowl mentally frowned as Ratchet cut the connection.

[Now what's the matter?]

"Problem?" Will asked scrutinising the SIC's faceplates.

Prowl glanced down at his charge, startled. It never ceased to amaze him how easily their human friends seemed to read his thoughts, especially Sam and Will.

"Ratchet just commed me to go to med-bay. Coming?"

"Sideswipe got himself in more trouble already?" Will laughed. "I'll come."

When Prowl and Will arrived at the med-bay, they found Sam and Ratchet poring over a data-pad. Both wore identical scowls, almost black enough to rival Sunstreaker's.

"Now that's a scary sight." Will murmured fearfully.

The Datsun silently agreed. There was only one thing more terrifying than an angry Ratchet; and that was an angry, wrench wielding Ratchet, with it seemed, an equally angry, Allspark power wielding, teenaged human.

Cautiously, but thoroughly scouring the room for any wrenches that might be lying temptingly nearby, Prowl deemed it relatively safe, for the moment, to enter; and promptly did so.

There were only two other occupants in the room. Tracks, slouched on a berth, complaining loudly about a joint in his hand, was being ignored by the CMO and human; and Sideswipe, helm already adorned with three large, suspiciously wrench shaped dents, was busy scrubbing the flaw over in a secluded, or as secluded as the med-bay went, corner.

"For the love of Primus! There's nothing fragging wrong with you, Tracks! Now get the slag out of my med-bay and stop whining, or I'll give you something to complain about!"

Ratchet's attention had shifted from the data-pad, to the unfortunate blew mech who opened his mouth to protest, saw the medic glare around the room, no doubt searching for a wrench; and instantly shut it again, deciding it wise to beat a hasty retreat. Suiting the action to the words, Tracks practically teleported from the room.

Sideswipe was still moping in his corner, so Ratchet and Sam turned to face the tactician, or rather his door-wings, as they appeared reluctant to meet his gays.

"Was there a reason you could not tell me, whatever it is you have to say, over the comm-line, Ratchet?" Prowl inquired calmly, managing to not squirm under their piercing stares.

"I have your results from the scans I ran earlier." The CMO began, pointedly avoiding the Praxian's question.

He picked up the data-pad and frowned at it resentfully, as if it had personally offended him.

"You're sparked." He added bluntly.

Prowl gave him a blank look.

"Excuse me?"

"You're pregnant … carrying. Ya know? Gonna be a parent. Give birth … to a sparkling." Sam clarified with difficulty.

Door-wings stiffened; and optics brightened until they were almost white, as Prowl froze in shock.

"Prowl …" Will glanced anxiously up into the black and white mech's face. "Prowl? Look at me."

The SIC didn't respond. He remained motionless, wide optics trained on the far wall, obviously lost in his own thoughts.

[Sparkling? … Sparkling. … Sparkling! Primus … a sparkling! How? Why? I'm not ready for-for a … sparkling! What am I going to do? I can't have a sparkling! Not ready … I can't … I'm not …]

Will yelped in surprise as he was abruptly set down as, for the second time that day, Prowl collapsed off-line, in the arms of a Lamborghini twin.

Sideswipe, recognising the signs of an impending glitch, had sprung forward to catch the small Praxian before he could injure himself, or the sparkling. Gathering up his commander, the red twin carried him across the room; and gently placed him on a berth.

Sam stood on Ratchet's desk, eyeing Prowl's limp form with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. He shook his head.

"A little bird tells me, he wasn't expecting that."

Author's note: oooooooooooooo … drama … and mystery … and, humour? Bet ya can't tell where I got the title for this chapter! That last line just makes me wanna listen to Jamie Lawson's song. *bursts out singing very loudly and very off-key* "Ohhhhh … I wasn't expecttttttting, that!"

One or two things might be a bit confusing at the moment, but I'll do my best to clear everything up in the next couple of chapters. Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought in a review … please? I'll try to update ASAP, but now that school's started up again, we're really getting hit with the homework, bigtime! So chapters for this; and my Cars fic will probably be kinda slow in coming. Sorry. Anyway, please R and R guys.

'Cookie'


	2. Chapter 2

Title: One Long Stella Cycle.

Author: PinkCookie11.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Author's note: I'm back with another chapter, a bit later than I'd originally intended. I had planned on posting this days ago, but I haven't been well lately, so I fell a bit behind in my writing, so, sorry for the delay. I'm not overly happy with this chapter; although, I'm not quite sure why. I hope you all enjoy anyway.

Special thank you to Vodid and GirlWhoLovesAnime for the reviews, I really appreciate them. Also a big thanks to those of my readers that have favorited and/or followed my story.

If you find the time, I would really like everyone who has not already done so, to please take a little looksee at my account; and read the info I've posted there. I believe that it is important for all my readers to understand a handful of things about me, thank you.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

See the prologue for the warning, summary and disclaimer.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Thoughts: […]

Com-link: /…/

Bond speech: :…:

Flashbacks: {…}

Nicknames/placing emphasis on particular words/phrases: '…'

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Chapter One: Prowl And …?

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Three weeks earlier.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

[NEST is going to have a hard time keeping this one quiet.]

Bluestreak glanced sadly at his surroundings. It had only been a few days since more Decepticons had arrived on earth, including Skywarp and Thundercracker, the other two Seekers of Starscream's Trine; and they were already wreaking havoc left, right and centre. This time, the three Seekers, along with Barricade, Soundwave, Swindle, Hook and Shockwave had attacked Cornwall, England. Though, why they had targeted such a random airier was beyond Bluestreak's comprehension.

"Just can't get enough." He muttered aloud.

"Who can't get enough of what, Blue?"

Mirage fell into step beside the silver Praxian; and the two began making their way over to where they could see Optimus, Jazz and Ironhide talking with a small cluster of their human comrades.

"The fragging cons." Bluestreak replied, rather uncharacteristically bitter. "As for what they can't get enough of, take your pick. Death, destruction, devastation."

"Whoa, easy on the Ds there, Blue." Mirage began, casting his younger companion a sideways look.

Bluestreak interrupted his friend almost heatedly.

"Everywhere the pit spawned slaggers go they cause loss of life! Homes! Of-of —"

The silver Datsun seemed to choke on his words. He stopped walking and twisted away from Mirage. The spy hovered uncertainly nearby, hand slightly outstretched as if to touch Bluestreak on the shoulder. He knew that the gunner was remembering the destruction of Praxis, but he had no idea how to help him.

[Primus! What do I do now? Where's Prowl when you need him!]

Prowl had always seemed better able than … well anyone, to deal with difficult situations like this.

[Speak of the Unmaker; and he shall appear.] He thought, catching sight of the officer in question.

Prowl was moving with a brisk, almost anxious pace. In fact, if Mirage hadn't known better, he would have thought that the Tactician was searching for something, or someone. Meeting Prowl's optics, the former noble inclined his head towards where Bluestreak was standing. Prowl gave a slight nod and turned his steps in their direction.

"Bluestreak?" Prowl asked softly, coming to a pores in front of the younger Praxian.

Mirage quietly excused himself, glad that the situation was being handled. Although he did feel a twinge of guilt at leaving a clearly upset Bluestreak with the black and white mech.

[Kinda sparkless of me, I guess. Prowl isn't the most sympathetic being in the universe.] He thought, making a beeline for Hound and Bumblebee as they joined Jazz, Epps, Fig, Prime and Ironhide.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Prowl quietly stood beside Bluestreak, one hand resting on the gunner's arm.

Blue stared sightlessly at some of the NEST soldiers attempting to put out a small fire that had sprung up dew to a handful of cars that had been caught in the crossfire. The silver Praxian hoped that the people inside had escaped uninjured. As the sharp, bitter smell of smoke reached him, Bluestreak shuttered his optics and tilted his face up towards the cloudless blew sky.

[This planet really is beautiful.] He thought, cycling air in imitation of a human sigh.

It was a perfect day for England, or at least it had been until the cons had arrived.

"Pity Sides and Sunny weren't here to take care of the Seekers for us cause I'm sure that they would have loved another game of jet-judo what do you think Prowl?" The gunner suddenly began to talk in his usual manner. Rapidly, nervously and non-stop. "They're not gonna be happy when they find out we left without them cause you know how much they love a good fight."

The Lamborghini twins had not accompanied the group to England, due to a backfiring prank that had landed the unhappy pare in med-bay, much to Ratchet's indignation; and their own dismay.

Prowl's only response was a slight, non-committal noise. A brief, but awkward silence fell between the two.

"How many?" The younger asked without moving.

"Four … that we know of." Was the soft reply.

"That we know of?" Blue wearily repeated. "That we know of. So … there're probably more. And there're more that are injured."

The SIC dropped his hand from the gunner's arm and took a slight step back.

"Bluestreak …" he started, voice both calm and firm. "… We are at war. The loss of life is inevitable and often unavoidable -"

"I know that, Prowl!" Bluestreak cut in sharply. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it!"

He walked a few steps away and stood, back to the commander, door-wings held stiff and rigid in obvious anger.

"However regrettable that might be." Prowl continued as if the gunner hadn't spoken. "We have to try and calculate all possible outcomes to lower the casualty rate -"

"Lower the casualty rate!" Bluestreak whirled to face the Tactician, pinning him with a glare that Sunstreaker would have been proud of. "Primus, Prowl! I knew you were unemotional! But I didn't know you were utterly sparkless!"

Prowl slowly moved towards the enraged mech.

"There could have been so many more deaths, Bluestreak. Only four human lives were lost -"

"Only four human lives were lost." Bluestreak narrowed his optics and spoke in a cold, hard voice. "You've made your dislike of the humans quite clear. The 'Squishies'. … But whether they're human or Cybertronian, four lives lost, are four too many."

With that he stepped past his superior; and hurried over to help the soldiers put out the blaze. If Bluestreak had taken a closer look at Prowl, he would have seen the quivering of the other Praxian's door-wings; and the dimming of his optics in defeat.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Prowl watched with a sinking spark as Bluestreak walked away.

He hadn't meant that the loss of human life was insignificant, but that was how the sniper had taken it. Prowl did not think of the humans as 'Squishies'. The SIC had not been the one to give the earth natives that name and he never used it himself. Perseptor and Tracks had chosen that particular nickname, as neither one were overly fond of the small organics. Many people and mechs believed that Prowl disliked earth and all its lifeforms, but in truth, the Tactician was just as grateful as the majority of Autobots that they had all been given a home among; and excepted by the humans. For the most part. Galloway was still less than friendly, but that was only to be expected.

Secretly, Prowl found humanity rather fascinating, but, as with his own kind, he had no idea how to interact with them. Bluestreak had only made the same mistake of so many others in assuming Prowl to be unemotional. The Praxian did not kid himself; he knew that he would never win any popularity contests, either from his own kind or that of any other. He also knew what his comrades and subordinates thought of him, what they said behind his back, but to hear it confirmed to his face; and by Bluestreak of all mechs, hurt Prowl far more than anyone would ever have suspected.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

"Prowl, Prowl!"

A shout from the ground caught his attention, drawing the commander from his bleak musings; and he turned towards the general direction of the call. Graham used his arm to shield his eyes from the surprisingly bright sun as he peered up at the SIC.

"Don't suppose you've seen the boss?" He asked, sounding slightly worried.

"I assume you are speaking of Major Lennox? No, I have not seen him for some time." Prowl lowered himself so that the soldier could converse with him more easily. "Why? Is he missing?"

"Wouldn't be searching for him otherwise." Graham retorted gloomily.

"Do you require some assistance in finding him?"

Graham scrutinised the mech before him with a contemplative frown, as if considering the offer. After a moment's thought, the human nodded, face clearing and a relieved smile curving his lips.

"If you can? It would be much appreciated. Thank you."

With that Graham re-joined a group of men searching for; and treating the injured.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Prowl had the fright of his life when he found Will.

The Major was face-down under a small pile of rubble, both legs trapped by a short collapsed brick wall. Prowl could see that Will was bleeding, but couldn't tell where the human was hurt.

[And of course Ratchet isn't here!] Prowl silently fumed as he commed Optimus.

/Sir?/

/What is it, Prowl?/

/Could you send some of the human medics to my location? I have found Major Lennox, and he is in need of immediate medical attention./

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Of course, Galloway was waiting when the group arrived back at Diego Garcia.

There was absolutely nothing on earth Prowl wanted to do less at that moment, than report to Galloway. What he wanted to do was make sure Will was going to be okay: Ratchet and the human medics having disappeared with all injured personal the second they had returned. Prowl would even rather collect everybody's mission reports, but as he felt Optimus transform beside him, the Datsun reluctantly concluded that it would be best to be rid of the overconfident director as soon as possible.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

"What're you still doing here?"

Jazz slipped up behind Prowl and rested his hands on the back of the Praxian's chare.

"Still waiting for news of Will." Prowl replied, without removing his optics from the glowing cube of high-grade sitting on the table in front of him. "Avoiding Bluestreak. Trying to figure out why the Decepticons were in Cornwall. Take your pick."

"Why? What happened with Blue?"

"Something that I never thought would happen. Not from Bluestreak." Said Prowl cryptically.

Jazz reached around his friend and tapped one finger on the top of the three quarters full cube.

"Ya sure ya should be drinkin this, Prowler? Ya know yer'a bit of a lightweight." The TIC questioned a little uneasily.

Prowl arched an optic ridge and gave a tiny, but definitely a petulant, pout.

"I fail to see how this is any of your business, Jazz."

The saboteur's visor lit up in mild surprise at the other's childlike tone; and he held up his hands to show that he meant no harm.

A/N: does Jazz from the 2007 movie even have a visor?

"Whoa, chill, mech."

This only earned him a perplexed look from Prowl, which he chose to ignore.

"I care …" Jazz continued seriously. "… cause you're my friend and I worry about you. I don't want to see you get yourself into any deep slag."

Prowl gazed almost contritely back down at the table.

"I hardly think that one cube of high-grade will cores me any 'deep slag'." The SIC muttered, flicking the corners of his door-wings in faint exasperation. "But, thank you." He added, softening his voice.

"Whatever." Jazz shrugged nonchalantly and slouched sideways in the seat opposite Prowl's. "Ahm gonna wait right here till yer done, though. Somebody has ta keep an optic on ya."

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

"Cmon, Prowl. Let's get you back to your own quarters. You'll be more comfortable there, I'm sure."

Prowl blearily on-lined his optics and smiled, still half asleep at the mech pulling him from the … flaw?

[Strange. I could of swared I wasn't on the ground to begin with.] Prowl snickered at that thought. [Hehe, don think swared is a word. And isn't spose to be could have? … Hmmmm. I'm good and snagged, I mean slagged … woops.]

"Well, I must say …" His companion began, sliding a supporting arm around the smaller black and white's waist; and steering him towards the door. "… I'm impressed. You're on the flaw after half a cube of high-grade. That's gotter be some sorta new record."

Prowl's only answer was a sulky look.

"Primus …" The other mech continued mercilessly. "… I knew you were a lightweight, but that was just something else."

"Lea'me 'lone." Prowl mumbled, letting his helm fall to rest on the other. "'sides, you're no better."

"Not much. But I'm a little more coordinated and … coherent: than you at the moment."

Arriving at Prowl's quarters, the mech palmed open the door and practically carried the Praxian across the room; and placed him carefully on the berth. Prowl rolled somewhat awkwardly on to his side and latched on to his companion's hands before he could pull away.

"Don't go." The SIC whispered, lightly tugging on the other to get him to lie down.

"Prowl I –" The mech hesitated, clearly unsure.

"Please …" Prowl's optics did all the pleading for him as he stared beseechingly up at the other. "… Stay."

The berth creaked softly as the other mech eased himself down next to Prowl, who snuggled close; and lightly pressed his lips to those of his companion. Their kisses and caresses were quite clumsy dew to the fact that they were anything but sober. However, they still managed to be passionate.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

When Prowl came out of recharge the following morning, he was alone.

[Primus. Was it just a dream, then?] He wondered sadly. [Was he even here last night?]

A wistful feeling of longing welled up in Prowl. He curled up in a tight ball and squeezed his optics shut.

He had never felt lonelier in his entire life.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Author's note: mwhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah- *continues evil and insane cackling for another several minutes before collapsing to the ground and wheezing*.

I'm evil, I know! I am just pure EEVVIIILLLLLL!

You didn't honestly believe that I'd tell you soooooo early who the daddy is, did ya? Now you'll have to stick around for the next chapter if you want to find out. I'll try to update soon, but I don't exactly know yet when 'soon' is. Until then, who do you think knocked up poor Prowlie? None of you know, even though I've sort of hinted at it, but I do! And that's the beauty of being the author!

Bwhahahah- … err, anyway, please R and R guys!

'Cookie'.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: One Long Stella Cycle.

Author: PinkCookie11.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Author's note: hey look! The roomer-mil's wrong! I'm not dead!

So I'm finally back with another chapter; and my god, didn't I have a hard time getting it written. I'm so sorry for the long wait, but I got sick; and had life dramas; and writers block, which is no joke! This one's kinda short, because I had to cut it in half, or it would've been too long. So the next chapter will probably be rather short as well. No. Sadly, I haven't written that one yet.

I'd like to give a special thank you to Vodid, GirlWhoLovesAnime, dreamaholicmme, Mywinx14 and Cars Crazy Fudge for the reviews and well-wishes, you guise are awesome!

Hmmm … I wonder, does anyone read the review page? I just love reading your thoughts. Although, for some reason, I've got one of them twice. The exact same review from two completely different people … I recommend you go and check it out, it's a really interesting and observant review.

*Hums in thought* … Time to start being more sneaky, I think.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

DJ Jazzy-D: thank you for the review! But I can't tell you who sparked Prowl … not yet, anyway. Please don't dye of suspense before you find out. If I were to tell you now, that would totally spoil my fun! But don't worry, I'm gonna drop some more hints soon. *Snickers* Better keep your eyes open, my clues are somewhat subtle.

Hakuna Matata: thanks for reviewing my fic! But I can't tell you either. And you're not allowed to be so observant. I forbid it! *Wanders off sulkily*

Thanks to all those who have favorited and/or followed this story. Even if you're just reading it, I hope you all enjoy.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

See the Prologue for the warning, summary and disclaimer.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Thoughts: […]

Com-link: /…/

Bond speech: :…:

Flashbacks: {…}

Nicknames/placing emphasis on particular words/phrases: '…'

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Chapter two: Two Peas in a Pod.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Set five days before the prologue.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

… not much else has really happened. Annabelle misses you very much. But you'll never believe what she wrote just the other day! I've included it at the bottom. Take a look at what your talented little girl has created. We both hope to see you soon.

Lots of love and kisses, always your ladies, Annabelle and Sarah.

On the last day of summer, the sun's rays carried little warmth. The sun itself appeared to drupe; and seemed less bright than usual, as it almost fell rather than set below the horizon: like an old man returning home, warn out after a long day's hard labour. However, the sky was a brilliant shade of pinkie orange. Little wisps of fluffy white cloud frolicked across the sky. In the broad branches of the sharp smelling eucalypts, the chorus of carolling magpies warbled their joy for all to hear. The triumphant Kookaburras mocked the gentle breeze, which idly ran her cool fingers through the long emerald green grass, causing it to wave and jostle the little golden sunflowers, which stood proudly by the roadside, stretching out their glowing yellow petals to eagerly drink in the last of the sun's warmth.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

"Awwwwwwwwwww! How sweet!"

Major William Lennox gave an irritated huff. Glancing up from the screen of his laptop displaying the email he'd been reading, he stared fixedly at Sargent Robert Epps, who had quite shamelessly read said email over his superior's shoulder.

"Going all soft and poetic on me, 'Willie'?"

"First, if you want to continue your existence, don't call me that, ever." Will began, tone dark and ominous. Sadly this only drew a wide grin from his companion. "Second, believe it or not, there is a slight difference between poetry and prose. Learn it. And Third, Annabelle wrote it."

"Oh, sure she did, boss!" Epps snickered. "' In the broad branches of the sharp smelling eucalypts, the chorus of carolling magpies warbled their joy for all to hear.'" He read out loud. "I can see how your three year old kid wrote that."

"Dum ass." Will muttered under his breath. Dropping the lid of his laptop, he stood up. "You can see it's an email from Sarah. What else would it be, but about Annabelle?"

"Whatever you say, sir. Whatever you say. Can I have it?"

No."

"Where ya goin' now?" Queried Epps, beginning to follow the major from the room. That was, until 'the look' was cast his way. Sometimes, the sergeant was convinced that Will spent too much time around his own wife.

"Going to find Prowl. He's better company than you at the moment. Correction, he's better company than you full stop." Will retorted coolly.

Epps dramatically clapped a hand over his heart, flung his head back and gave a mock hurt wale.

"Primus! That burns, 'Willie'! That really burns! … Not that I've a problem with 'Prowlie' or anything …"

Will rolled his eyes heavenward, as if begging whatever deities that may or may not exist, to grant him enough patients to deal with certain, extremely infuriating friends.

"Two pees in a pod."

"… Huh?"

Epps came out of his 'mortally wounded' act; and stared blankly at his fellow officer.

Lennox chuckled drily and once more turned to leave the room. As he left, he called back to a still hopelessly perplexed Epps.

"You've been spending too much time with Jazz."

o0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

"Prowl …"

"I don't want to hear it, Blaster. Just get communications back online."

"It wouldn't have even gone offline in the first place! If it weren't for certain red and yellow sons of Unicron …"

"That's enough! I told you, I will deal with them. Your job is to fix whatever it is that is preventing our communication. Not to question the clear and direct orders given to you!"

The tone that had delivered those words had been both harsh and sharp. Not at all like the one that was generally heard from that particular mech.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Concerned, Will followed the two angry voices around the corner and stopped.

Blaster stood stiffly just outside the rec-room door, gazing in obvious bafflement after a rapidly disappearing Prowl. The strategist practically radiated 'don't frag me off, or you'll come off second best', but Will recognised that particular lowering of his guardian's door-wings.

Prowl was tired.

Or undercharged.

Or both.

"What's going on?" He asked, turning to face the Autobot communications officer.

Blaster gave a long suffering sigh; and knelt in front of the human.

"Honestly … who knows anymore. He's been acting really unlike himself lately."

Will frowned in mild irritation.

[How could you even pretend to know what he's really like? You never spend any time with him. No one bothers to try and understand him.]

Lennox allowed the subject to drop, however, for the moment, as he unfortunately needed the mech's help.

"He's probably been over doing it again. Wanna help me take him a cube of energon?"

The soldier realised he had made more of a demand than a request, but dismissed that thought. It wasn't as if he was ordering the twenty foot alien robot to do anything all that unpleasant … not that he would believe that, of course.

A/N: I don't actually know how tall Blaster Is, so this was just a random guess.

Prowl wasn't that bad.

In fact, once you got through that seemingly impenetrable cold, stoic facade, the tactician was just like everybody else.

Lennox was determined that, before too long, someone besides himself would come to understand that.

The Communications officer gave the Cybertronian equivalent of a frustrated snort.

"Look, I'll take ya to the energon dispenser. I'll even help ya draw up a cube. But you'll just have to wait till someone else comes along. Cause after the way he just bit my head off, I'm not goin' near 'im for a while. And I wouldn't exactly be surprised, or sorry if he decided to remain in his office for the rest of the week." He tried to reason.

Will ran his hand through his hare and shifted his wait to lean wearily against the wall behind him.

[Getting people and/or, preferably and, mechs to see the reel Prowl … ain't gonna be easy.]

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Optimus Prime.

Who better to approach the Autobot SIC, then said SIC's friend; and incidentally, his CO.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Will spied the large red and blue bot the moment he entered the rec-room.

"Good afternoon, Major." The Autobot leader greeted cordially, making his way over to the energon dispenser, where Will had been patiently awaiting the arrival of this specific individual for over an hour.

"Afternoon Prime." Lennox returned lightly, having long ago given up attempting to persuade Optimus to be less formal with him. "How's life been treating you?"

The two chatted amiably as the Prime drew himself a cube. However, Will was more interested in the data-pad clasped in Optimus's other hand.

[Primus. Don't they have anything better to do than walk around with …]

Well, it couldn't, in all fairness, be called 'paper-work'.

Lennox was an officer himself, so he often had paper-work of his own to fill out. But he rather made it a point not to carry it everywhere he went, as Optimus and Prowl seemed to. Which reminded him.

[Like clockwork.] He thought, smirking briefly as a quick glance at his watch confirmed that Prime was punctual as always. [Wonder if that's where Prowl gets it?]

Will had already politely declined help from Bumblebee, Ironhide and Bluestreak, believing that neither of them would be willing to go anywhere near the Praxian in his current mood. Also knowing that Optimus payed a daily visit to his Second, the Major had elected to wait.

"Might wanna draw up another of those for Prowl. I don't think he's had any in a while."

The large mech said nothing as he turned back towards the energon dispenser, but Will had become relatively good at reading the unspoken language of their Cybertronian friends; and he knew that Prime was frowning behind that battle mask of his.

"Mind if I come with?" He asked, standing with some difficulty.

Before he could take a single step, he found himself swept up in a big blue hand. Suppressing both a smile and a sigh, Lennox was unsure whether to be warmed or annoyed by the Autobots' protective attitude towards him of late. In the end, he simply rolled his eyes and remained silent.

"Not at all. However, you're just as bad as my Second."

"Oh?" Will tilted his head in order to peer up into the Autobot leader's optics. "Is that so?"

"Yes." The two of you are, how does that human saying go?" The blue optics dimmed slightly, as Optimus appeared to research something on the world wide web before giving a nod of satisfaction. "Ah yes. 'Two peas in a pod'."

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Optimus was not overly surprised when they came upon Jazz headed in the direction of Prowl's office, Sam perched comfortably on his shoulder. The two were deep in a discussion about music, but they both grinned jovially as the Prime's longer strides brought him level with his TIC.

"Hey, boss-bot." Jazz began cheerfully, as his CO fell in beside him. "Off to see 'Prowler'?"

"As I do at the same time, each and every day. What about you, Jazz? What might you be up to?"

The small silver mech lifted a hand to take Will from his larger companion; and set him on his own shoulder next to Sam as he replied.

"Well, it's time fer 'Sammy's' lesson 'n tactics, curtesy of our favourite black an' white Datsun, so, ah thought, why not accompany 'im?"

Both Cybertronians came to an abrupt holt; and simply gaped, speechless with shock at the scene unfolding in front of them.

Will was the first to regain his composure. He turned to Sam and tapped him on the arm to attract his attention.

"Now, what's wrong with that picture." The Major said rather than asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the unusual spectacle.

Prowl was storming towards them.

Optics blazed, door-wings rode high on the tactician's back; and his whole body was tense in evident fury. One white hand clutched one of Sideswipe's helm-horns in a vice like grip, whilst the other grasped a helm-fin of Sunstreaker's in a similar manner, as Prowl fairly dragged the 'terra twins' down the corridor.

The two Lamborghinis were considerably taller than the small officer, so the Praxian's relentless hold forced them to lean slightly sideways as they noiselessly, half shuffled along, just as stunned as their little audience.

Prowl's normally cool and commanding voice was raised in anger, as he loudly berated the brothers in Cybertronian. It was plane to see, that the language Prowl used, was far from pretty, as it caused both Optimus and Jazz to wince and avert their gazes as the trio neared.

However, the SIC past the little group without so much as a flicker of acknowledgement.

When they were gone, Jazz let out a breath of air with a loud burst.

"Aw man. Ah don' even wanna know what those two have done t' deserve tha'."

"Does Prowl have some kind of Dicepticon doppelganger that I have yet to discover?" Optimus inquired dazedly.

"Thought something was up." Sam commented calmly, appearing unfazed by the entire somewhat bizarre scenario. This caused Will to narrow his eyes in suspicion, but Sam merely gestured towards Prowl's open office door. "Shall we?"

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Author's note: ooooo. Prowl's getting moody.

I don't really like this one all that much, but I'm hoping that's just me. In any case, the story will improve, I swear!

So not much really happened in this chapter, but remember it's only half of one. The next chapter, which will be a continuation of this one, should be a little more interesting.

Also, I realise that 'Bay-Verse Sideswipe' is meant to be silver, but when Sunny's around, he should always be red. Or maybe that's just my opinion. Therefore, 'One Long Stella Cycle Sides' is going to remain red.

Please R and R guise?

'Cookie'


	4. Chapter 4

Title: One Long Stella Cycle.

Author: PinkCookie11.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Author's note: hey look, update!

I know, I know, I really didn't mean to go AWOL on you all, but my health, writers block, school, Reel life; and eventually other stories got in the way. I'm so sorry!

Unfortunately, this chapter is still too long and has once more had to be cut down, so again, it's rather short; and the next one will be also. Hopefully it will be a little better than the last chapter.

To Vodid, GirlWhoLovesAnime; and Mywinx14, thank you so much for reviewing the last chapter. Not much really happened, but you guys reviewed anyway and I love you for it!

As always, thanks to my readers that have favorited and/or followed this little story, I love you guys too.

Now on to the story, shall we? I still hope you all enjoy!

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

See the Prologue for the warning, summary and disclaimer.

o0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Thoughts: [...]

Com-link: /.../

Bond speech: :...:

Flashbacks: {...}

Nicknames/placing emphasis on particular words/phrases: '...'

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Chapter Three: Confrontations.

o0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Begins just after the end of the last chapter.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

The unending creak Jazz made as he slowly rocked back on the two hind legs of his chair, followed, every time, by the bang of said chair falling to rest on all fours again, were the only sounds to be heard in Prowl's unnervingly quiet office.

Prowl himself, was sitting statue like in his own chair. Only speaking on occasion, generally to give a short; and noticeably sharp answer to Sam's increasingly infrequent questions, even the SIC's door-wings remained eerily motionless.

Neither Will nor Sam were willing to attempt to break the tense silence that could be felt, like a living creature there in the room with them. Jazz seemed determined to ignore it, but Prowl's atypical behaviour was beginning to greatly concern both humans.

The Autobot Second in Command had returned from locking the twins up in the brig, to rather impatiently give his daily report to Optimus. He had excepted the energon cube, which now stood, untouched, on the desk between him and Jazz; and had sunk into his seat, apparently to read the information provided on the data-pad, that he had also received from his Commanding Officer. However, despite the fact that his optics almost bore twin holes in the screen of the data-pad, Prowl did not see a single word that was printed there.

Instead, the strategist had unintentionally begun counting each squeak produced by the loudly protesting chair; and was finding himself uncharacteristically distracted and angered by the saboteur's ceaseless swaying to and fro.

[2990. 2991. 2992. 2993.]

His battle-computer estimated a 99.79 per sent chance that the TIC would lose his precarious balance within the next 1.02 minutes. This would bring Jazz up to no less than 3003 squeaks; and no more than 3005.

[2994. 2995. 2996. 2997.]

Prowl decided that he would be relieved when that finally did happen. Maybe then his sometimes friend would stop his infernal swinging and spit out whatever was running around in that processor of his. The Praxian wasn't in the mood for guessing games.

[2998. 2999. 3000. 3001. 3002. 3003. 3004 ...]

"Aw slag!"

CLANG!

[Right on cue.]

Sam tentatively peaked over the edge of Prowl's desk and smirked down at the silver mech, who was rather inelegantly starfished across the flaw ... and the remains of what had once been his seat.

"Aw, Jazz!" The teen exclaimed, face screwing up in what was meant to be an accusatory frown. "You broke it!"

"Nuh uh!" Jazz defended, scrambling to his feet and attempting to right the chair, which promptly fell apart under its own wait. "It's jus' a lil' banged up, is all."

"I don't suppose you are going to give up your misguided attempt to defy gravity after this?" Prowl queried irritably.

He got an exaggerated scoff by way of a response from Jazz, who was apparently appalled at the mere suggestion.

"That'd jus' be lettin' th' chair win, Prowler!"

Will quirked an eyebrow, before turning to gaze pointedly at the small pile of debris the blue visored mech was casually nudging to the side. The back had been cleanly snapped off, the bottom half of one front leg had been splintered into a useless, mangled mess; and both hind legs were dangling by a few wooden threads. He had known, he had just known the Autobots couldn't be trusted with wood.

"Hmm, don't think there's much danger of that." The Major reassured. "Anyone can see, quite clearly, that the chair came off second best in this case."

The major glimpsed a flash of emotion that briefly played across Sam's face, but it was gone before he could correctly decipher it.

"Sooooo ... Jazzie, ol' buddy, ol' pal ..." the teenager smiled serenely up at the smallest Autobot, "... now that you've destroyed Prowl's visitor's chair, quite successfully, I might add, hows 'bout ya out with whatever ya really wanna say?"

"Umm, woops?" Jazz tentatively volunteered.

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Not about the chair." The teen quietly explained. "I mean what you wanna say to Prowl."

The TIC wordlessly leaned his elbows on the edge of Prowl's desk and let his chin rest in his cupped hands. The silence stretched long and unbroken, as Jazz pinned Sam with an uncommon and completely expressionless blue visored gaze. Their impromptu stair-down came to an abrupt end when Prowl spoke up, voice strained, almost as if he was forcefully holding back a torrent of ... emotion.

... Almost.

"As much as I enjoy watching you make an aft of yourself in front of our human friends, neither my furniture, nor my patients can take a great deal more of your antics today. So, I must agree with Sam. State whatever it is you wish to say to me, 'Jazzie'."

Prowl had not so much as twitched his door-wings, or shifted his optics from the screen of his data-pad throughout the entirety of his miniature tirade. Jazz and Will exchanged anxious frowns, before the saboteur leaned even further forward, trying to catch the tactician's allusive gaze.

"Ya want it strait, Prowl?" Jazz began, dropping any and all pretences of play; and his tone taking on a serious note. "Ya should go see Ratchet."

"Why?" The SIC inquired in the same monotone he had been using earlier.

Jazz exvented slowly and pinched his nasal bridge between his thumb and middle finger. Pushing himself up off the desk to stand with his arms folded across his chest-plating, the silver mech levelled his black and white friend with an unusually stern glair.

"Simply put, yer sick. An' ah don' believe it's ya glitch."

"You would be correct in that assumption, my glitch is not presenting me with any undue difficulties. However, I am currently experiencing sufficient physical health also. Therefore, I deem it unnecessary to pay a visit to Ratchet."

"Ya know ah love ya, Prowl; and ya know ah respect ya, but that's complete slag."

Prowl raised an orbital ridge, pursing his lip components together in a thin line of displeasure.

"If you would kindly refrain from using such crude language, then I am sure that I will be able to convince you that I am not, in fact, sick."

"Frag it, Prowl!" Jazz slammed a clenched fist down on the tactician's desk before suddenly spinning away to pace the little office in a clear state of high agitation. "Ah'm not th' only one ta have slaggin' noticed it! Yer odd behaviour, draggin' th' twins down th' corridor earlier! Ya bightin' th' helms off 'a any 'bot or human who jus' so much as looks at ya th' wrong way! Even OP ain't free 'a ya frellin' moods! Even now! The way ya scowlin' at yer data-pad, anyone'd think it'd marched over ta th' 'cons base an' whispered all yer deepes' darkes' secrets 'n Meggertron's shell like audio! Either ya go see Ratchet, or ah'll get 'im an' Prime ta declare ya unfit fer duty!"

A/n: d'you have any idea how bloody hard it is to write a rant in 'Jazzanese'! Just so you know, the words above are deepest and darkest, but Jazz says them without the t.

Unfortunately for the saboteur, in so easily losing his composure, he had simply caused Prowl's cool demeanour to vanish also. That last threat had been pushing it too far.

"Out!" The SIC fairly spat, catching up both Sam and Will, gently, as nothing on Earth or off it, could persuade him to be anything other than cautious when handling the humans, particularly Will; and practically shoving them into Jazz's hands before firmly guiding the TIC towards the door, white hand clamped about his friend's silver shoulder.

Jazz cringed at the sound of the office door crashing shut behind them. He had remained, up until that very moment, blissfully ignorant of the fact that it was even possible to slam an electronic sliding door so hard. But he guessed it was true what the humans said.

[You do learn something new every day.]

"That went well." Sam commented cheerfully, as if he was merely making an observation on the weather.

Will noted, that yet again, he appeared unsurprised by the whole affair. Being careful to maintain his relatively safe position in Jazz's hand, the major moved to the side just enough to grip the boy's arm.

"We need to talk."

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

"Sooo," Sam prompted, taking a sip of his bitter tasting black coffee. Grimacing in mild disgust, he made an almost frantic grab for the milk jug and the sugar bowl.

The two men were seated in the mess hall of Diego Garcia. Very few people were around at that time of the afternoon, the lunch session having finished; and the dinner hour still quite a while off.

Will absently swirled his own evil smelling black liquid around in its polystyrene cup, watching, vaguely impressed, as Sam liberally shovelled several heaped teaspoons of white sugar crystals into his drink.

"Care for some coffee to go with all that sugar, Sam?" The major offered dryly.

Sam shot him a smirk.

"Nah, I'm good."

"Alright spill. What do you know that I don't?" The soldier placed his coffee down on the table in front of him, beginning his miner interrogation as he did so.

Sam took a final gulp of his now extremely sugary liquid before setting it down also, meticulously lining it up beside the one belonging to his companion. Lacing his fingers together in his lap, the teenager calmly returned Will's expressionless, but somehow slightly severe gaze.

"What I know," The boy began to reply slowly, thoughtfully, as if he was carefully considering every word before allowing it to pass his lips. "Is there's something up with Prowl. And that Prime, Ratchet and one or two others are unaware of this little fact."

[The only ones that could actually do something about the issue.] Will silently acknowledged.

"Jazz realises," Sam continued. "But he's going about it the wrong way. And He's going to keep ruffling Prowl's feathers, so to speak."

"And what makes you so certain?" Will questioned, a subtle hint of curiosity permeating his voice.

"C'mon, I know Jazz almost as well as I know Bumblebee. Just as you're far better acquainted with all Ironhide's; and now Prowl's ... quirks than the rest of us."

Lennox settled more comfortably in his chair, pondering the information he had just been given.

It was still not widely known that Samuel James Witwicky was basically the Cybertronian allspark enclosed in human flesh; and had been ever since the battle of Mission city. Though the events leading up to that peculiar transformation were as of yet undetermined. The symptoms had not even begun to make themselves known until shortly before the drama that had unfolded in the Egyptian Desert.

As a rather pleasant result of 'allspark Sam', the teenager had been able to assist Ratchet with the repairs and revival of the Autobot third in command, more than two years after the aforementioned TIC's death at the hands of Megatron. Ever since his resurrection, an extremely grateful Jazz had been, at his own insistence, a secondary guardian for the young human.

Surprisingly, Bumblebee had not minded sharing his human friend with the saboteur. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the yellow scout apparently viewed Jazz as a sort of older brother, or maybe it was simply the promise of extra protection for Sam, but whatever the reason, Bumblebee had welcomed the change; and before too long had passed, Sam was just as fond of Jazz as he was Optimus and Bumblebee; and according to Jazz, the feeling was completely mutual.

"And why exactly, are you so convinced that Jazz will continue to, quote unquote, 'ruffle Prowl's feathers'?" Lennox queried, restarting his series of questions.

Sam gave a short, sharp bark of laughter.

"Look, he might be head of special ops, but sometimes Jazz and tact/subtlety really do not jell."

Knowing Prowl as well as he did, Will had no choice but to concede. Jazz was not the right 'bot to approach his guardian regarding this somewhat delicate matter.

The Autobot second in command had only been William Lennox's official guardian for a couple of months.

When the decision had been made that his daughter, Annabelle, should have her own guardian, Will's first choice had of course been Ironhide. The old weapon specialist had felt honoured, but equally concerned for his former charge. The big black cannon carrying mech had addressed the topic of his anxiety with his Prime; and four days later, the major had himself a brand new guardian.

Initially, Will had been rather dubious of Optimus's selection. Prowl had not seemed the guardian type, but Lennox was happy to admit that he had been wrong. Prowl had a protective, affectionate side that verged on being playful. Very few would ever suspect it, but not only had the two become close friends, but Prowl had developed a soft spot for Will; and the human soldier had begun to think of the strategist as a brother.

Lennox may look up to Ironhide for protection, almost as a father, but with Prowl, Will felt both safe; and much to his appropriate astonishment, he had also begun to unconsciously harbour feelings of fierce protectiveness towards the Autobot SIC, feelings that were generally only reserved for members of his family.

"So, I don't suppose you have any suggestions on how we can deal with this problem?" Will ask quizzically, running a hand through his hair in evident weariness.

Sam cast him a reassuring smile. Picking up his coffee, the boy distastefully eyed the thick, brown surface of his drink, complete with its as of yet, undissolved sugar; and four semi-drowned black flies, sluggishly drifting around in little circles. Gingerly returning his cup, which remained untouched to the table, he gave his companion a knowing grin.

"Red Alert."

"... Huh?"

"Red Alert."

"What about him?"

"He's the perfect 'bot for the job." Sam patiently elaborated.

"I fail to see how." Lennox replied in confusion.

"Think about it. Red's an officer, he thankfully has more tact than Jazz, but he's still one of Prowl's closest friends. He trusts Red. He'll either get Prowl down to Ratchet, or he'll get Prime to send him there. And all free from the usual mayhem that would ordinarily accompany such a feat." Sam rather triumphantly summarised.

Will took a moment to absorb the teen's words; and then he chuckled in mingled amusement and relief.

"You've definitely been paying attention to Prowl's lessons in strategies."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"And Ratchet's lessons regarding Cybertronian medicine. And Optimus's in Cybertronian history. And every other lesson I've been given by/about anything and everything Cybertronian. If I'm gonna be their allspark, I'm gonna do it properly; and that includes learning ... everything I possibly can about them."

Will opened his mouth in order to respond, but was instantly cut off by the base alarm.

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

Back in his office, Prowl, after having banished Jazz and the humans, had slowly sunk into his chair, helm in both hands.

The Praxian knew that there was an element of truth in what his friend had claimed. His, for lack of a better term, moodiness had begun just a couple of days prior to the SIC's confrontation with Jazz. Sudden bouts of fatigue and nausea invariably caught him off-guard. He had also discovered, that although he seemed to be in a perpetual state of undercharge, Prowl simply could not bring himself to swallow enough energon in order to keep his body and processer fully operational.

Slowly venting a long drawn out, shaky sigh, Prowl lifted his optics to peer contemplatively at the still full energon cube that Optimus had given him. His tank, though empty, gave a discomforting lurch at the mere thought of consuming it; and Prowl quickly turned away before the simple sight could make him ill.

The strategist reached for a data-pad, intent on completing his work early in the hopes of snatching a few hours of rest. Before the poor Praxian could so much as glance at the thing however, the base alarm sent him racing out of his office and down the corridor.

The Decepticons really possessed the most inconvenient timing.

O0o 0o0 o0o 0o0

Author's note: whoa, did I say this chapter was short? I take it back! But it would've been even longer if I hadn't cut it down.

Hopefully I cleared up a thing or two, but feel free to ask me questions if you're still confused about anything.

I know, the plot's moving pretty slowly, but it can't be helped. And you'll probably find out who the other parent of Prowl's sparkling is soon.

Until then, if you have any suggestions for the overall story, or sparkling names for me, I'd love to hear them.

Sharing is caring! So pretty please share your ideas with me.

I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I'll definitely return to this fic.

In the meantime, for anyone that's interested, I've started posting a series of mostly unrelated TF oneshots. You know, those fics where the readers make requests for the author to write them something? It's up on my profile if you wanna check it out; and I'd be quite happy to except your requests if you have any for me.

'til next time.

Please R and R guys.

'Cookie'


End file.
